My name is Alissa (She/Her) I am 28 fandoms are Twilight. Marauders, Stranger Things, Azriel and the other bat boys (iykyk) ACOTAR SPIDERMANS, Andrew Garfiled is my husband be kind love you bye 👋
got a crick in my neck and a frog in my throat and a chip on my shoulder and a stick up my ass and now you're gonna stand there puttin words in my mouth? haven't I been through enough?
I genuinely appreciate how obsession doesn't try to frame bear as morally grey but just fully leans into how deplorable he is. a lesser movie would have tried to give him redeeming moments along the way but no, at every single crossroads bear makes the wrong choice. when the customer service rep asks him if he wants to cancel his wish, he says no, and asks to alter it. when nikki, the real one, begs him to kill her, he asks her "if it would be so bad to love him", and right at the end, backs out of killing himself and tries to throw the pills up. he is the villain, not another victim, not a confused, cowardly boy, the villain.
too many readers these days want everything spelled out instantaneously. sometimes you have to trust in the story. sometimes you have to wait for character development! not every fic you read will be a wall of text in small font that is a generic blurb that can be applied to any fictional character having sex with reader. and that’s fine if you like those kinds of fics! but not every story is like that— so respect it.
that being said I and all writers are grateful for readers who trust the process, who understand a story can have layers. y’all fucking rule.
🗣️ louder !! it’s the instantaneous tiktok era that has people absolutely fucked up and thinking that they need to know x y and z right the fuck n o w. whatever happened to building up angst and slowburns? stories with multiple parts take time and world building and characterization that isn’t your everyday “he kisses your neck and you moan” etc etc
seeing comments of *part 2 !! part two when?!* on a one shot drives me crazy. sometimes there is no other part, it’s meant to be that way! *kudos to whoever said it this week on my dash, was that you @littlexdeaths ?? *
Steve left with a smile that lingered long after the door shut behind him.
The front door clicked softly, the sound echoing through the house as his footsteps faded down the porch steps. For a moment, everything went still-like the house itself was holding its breath.
Then she moved.
It started with a sound-something between a laugh and a gasp-before she pressed both hands to her mouth, eyes wide, like she’d just woken from a dream she wasn’t ready to let go of.
“Oh my god,” she whispered.
Dustin looked up from the arm of the couch just in time to see her spin in place, sweater sleeves slipping over her hands as she paced the living room, cheeks flushed, smile unstoppable.
“He asked me out,” she said, not to Dustin-just to the air. “He actually asked me out.”
Dustin blinked.
He’d seen his sister happy before. Calm, content, quietly pleased. But this-this was different. This was excitement bursting at the seams, joy she wasn’t trying to tuck away or soften or explain.
She stopped suddenly, eyes bright. “I need to call Mom.”
She was already reaching for the phone, fingers trembling as she dialed. Dustin stayed where he was, watching as she tucked the cord between her shoulder and ear, pacing again, laughter spilling out of her in breathless waves.
“Hi-no, nothing’s wrong-everything’s good, actually, really good,” she said, voice tripping over itself. “Steve asked me out. For Valentine’s Day. To Enzo’s.”
She paused, listening, then laughed again-soft and giddy and entirely unguarded.
“I know,” she said. “I know it’s silly. I just-he was so sweet about it.”
Dustin swallowed.
She leaned against the wall as she talked, one hand pressed to her chest like she was trying to steady her heartbeat. She nodded along to whatever their mom was saying, smile never fading.
When she finally hung up, she stayed there for a second, staring at nothing, like she needed to ground herself back in reality.
Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Dustin shifted, drawing her attention. She laughed softly, a little embarrassed now that someone else was watching.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m being dramatic.”
“No,” Dustin said quickly, honestly. “You’re… happy.”
She smiled at that. A small, glowing smile. “Yeah. I am.”
She wandered toward the hallway, already pulling open her closet door, fingers brushing hangers as if she could already see the night laid out in front of her-candlelight, laughter, Steve’s warm smile across the table.
Dustin stayed behind in the living room, heart full and oddly tight all at once.
He had never seen her like this.
Not nervous. Not careful. Just… openly excited. Like she’d finally let herself believe something good could happen to her.
He leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, a quiet grin tugging at his lips.
Valentine’s Day was coming.
And his sister had no idea how close she was to the happiest night of her life.
-
The Starcourt Mall was loud in a way that made her feel small.
Music pulsed from somewhere overhead, bouncing off glossy tile floors and glass storefronts. Teenagers clustered around railings. The air smelled like pretzels and perfume and something sugary from Scoops Ahoy drifting through the atrium.
She clutched her purse strap like it might float away if she let go.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself, stopping just outside a clothing store with mannequins dressed in effortless confidence. “This is stupid. It’s just a date.”
A Valentine’s date, her brain helpfully added. With Steve Harrington.
She turned halfway like she might escape when a voice beside her said, “You’re doing the thing.”
She blinked. “The… thing?”
Robin Buckley stood there with a stack of folded shirts tucked under one arm, eyebrows raised like she’d been watching this unfold for a while.
“You’re staring at the store like it personally wronged you,” Robin said. “Classic pre-date spiral. I recognize it because I live there.”
She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”
“Oh, it’s extremely obvious,” Robin said cheerfully. “But don’t worry. I’m bored, procrastinating, and emotionally invested now.”
Before she could protest, Robin hooked an arm through hers and steered her inside.
The store was bright and cold, mirrors lining the walls like they were waiting to judge her. She immediately felt her shoulders tense.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted, lowering her voice. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to wear. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to look like I didn’t try at all, and-”
“Whoa,” Robin said, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “Deep breath. You’re not being graded. This isn’t a pop quiz on ‘How to Be a Girl.’”
She huffed out a nervous laugh. “It kind of feels like one.”
Robin studied her for a second-not critically, but thoughtfully. Then she grinned.
“Okay. Here’s the thing,” she said. “Steve Harrington is already interested. That part? Locked in. You’re not here to convince him of anything.”
That made her pause.
“You’re just here to look like you,” Robin continued. “But like… the version of you who remembers she’s kind of amazing.”
They moved through the racks together. Robin pulled things without hesitation-soft sweaters, a skirt that actually moved when she touched it, something with a little color instead of hiding in beige.
She hesitated in the fitting room, staring at her reflection like it might betray her.
Robin leaned against the doorframe. “You’re doing it again.”
“What if he thinks I look weird?” she asked quietly. “Or awkward. Or-”
“Okay, first of all,” Robin said, holding up a finger, “Steve Harrington is physically incapable of thinking a girl looks weird when she’s smiling at him. Second of all-awkward is not a crime. It’s a personality trait.”
She laughed despite herself.
Robin smiled, softer now. “You don’t need to be cool. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to walk in there knowing he asked you for a reason.”
She glanced back at the mirror.
The girl looking back still had nerves in her eyes-but there was something else too. A spark. A little courage she hadn’t noticed before.
“…Okay,” she said. “Okay. I think I can do this.”
Robin clapped once, delighted. “Yes. That’s the energy. Valentine’s Day Steve Harrington does not stand a chance.”
As they left the store, bags swinging between them, the mall didn’t feel quite so overwhelming anymore. The lights seemed warmer. The noise less sharp.
For the first time since he’d asked her out, her nerves softened into something else.
Excitement.
-
Steve Harrington had showered twice.
Not because he needed to-because his nerves wouldn’t let him stop moving.
The bathroom mirror was fogged over, the smell of soap and something clean and citrusy still clinging to his skin as he stood in his room, towel slung low on his hips, staring at his closet like it might bite him. His bed was a disaster zone: neatly folded jeans beside discarded ones, shirts draped over the edge like abandoned ideas, his favorite jacket laid out carefully and then pushed aside again.
He checked the clock.
Too early.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and exhaled through his nose. His heart was doing this stupid thing-thudding like it was already running late.
He reached for the phone without thinking.
“Tell me what to wear,” he said the second Dustin picked up.
Dustin laughed. “Wow. You didn’t even say hi.”
“Hi,” Steve said distractedly, holding two shirts up in front of the mirror. “Okay-blue or white?”
“Blue,” Dustin said immediately. “The soft one. Not the one that makes you look like you’re trying.”
Steve glanced at the fabric. “How do you know which one that is?”
“I just do,” Dustin said smugly. “Trust me.”
Steve nodded, even though Dustin couldn’t see him. He pulled the blue shirt on, smoothing the front, rolling the sleeves just once. He looked… good. Not perfect. Real.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Shoes?”
“Clean,” Dustin replied. “But not the fancy ones. She’ll think you’re uncomfortable.”
Steve swallowed. “She notices stuff like that?”
“She notices everything,” Dustin said easily. “She just doesn’t say it out loud.”
Steve sat down to tie his shoes, fingers slower than usual.
“What about flowers?” he asked. “Is that too much?”
“No,” Dustin said. “But don’t go big. She likes things that feel… intentional.”
Steve closed his eyes briefly, nodding. “Right.”
He stood again, sprayed cologne once-twice-then stopped himself. Too much. He waved the air away, heart pounding, suddenly aware of how quiet the house felt.
“She’s nervous,” Dustin added after a moment. “She won’t say it. But she’s excited. I’ve literally never seen her like this.”
Steve smiled despite himself. “Me neither.”
There was a pause on the line-comfortable, buzzing.
“Steve?” Dustin said.
“Yeah?”
“Just-don’t rush her. And don’t disappear into jokes if you get scared.”
Steve looked at his reflection. His hair was behaving for once, his eyes bright, something hopeful sitting just beneath the nerves.
“I won’t,” he said softly. “I really like her.”
Dustin grinned on the other end. “Good. Because she really likes you.”
Steve’s chest warmed, something steady and sure settling in.
He grabbed his keys, jacket slung over his arm.
“I’m heading out,” he said.
“Go get her, Romeo,” Dustin teased. “And don’t forget-she likes when people listen.”
Steve smiled to himself as he opened the door.
“I’m really good at that,” he said.
And for the first time all night, he believed it.
-
Steve Harrington stood on the Hendersons’ front porch holding a bouquet of flowers and questioning every decision he’d ever made.
They weren’t huge. Dustin had been very clear about that. Soft colors-pale pinks, cream, something small and thoughtful. Steve adjusted his grip for the third time, smoothing the paper like it might calm his nerves, then checked the door.
Right on time.
He lifted his hand to knock-
The door flew open.
“Steve!” Dustin said far too loudly. “Hey! Wow. You’re-uh-early.”
Steve blinked. “I’m… on time.”
Dustin stepped directly into the doorway, blocking the view inside with his entire body. “Yeah! Totally. That’s what I meant. On time. Perfectly on time.”
From somewhere deeper in the house came frantic footsteps.
Then a whisper-sharp and urgent.
“DUSTIN.”
Steve’s ears perked up.
“STALL HIM,” her voice hissed. “I AM NOT READY.”
Dustin winced. “I am actively stalling,” he whispered back, just as loudly.
Steve tried very hard not to smile.
Inside, she was a mess of nerves and half-fastened jewelry. Her room smelled like perfume and hairspray, dresses tossed across the bed like evidence of indecision. She stared at herself in the mirror, heart racing, hands trembling as she smoothed the fabric over her waist.
“Why do I look like this,” she muttered, tugging at her sleeve. “Dustin, I swear if you let him see me before I’m ready-”
“I won’t!” Dustin stage-whispered. “But you have, like, sixty seconds.”
On the porch, Steve cleared his throat. “Do you, uh… want me to come back?”
“No!” Dustin said immediately. “Absolutely not. That would be weird.”
Steve nodded slowly. “Okay. Cool.”
He shifted his weight, glancing down at the flowers. “I brought these. For her.”
Dustin’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”
“What?” Steve panicked. “Is that bad?”
“No,” Dustin said quickly. “No, that’s-she’s gonna lose her mind. In a good way.”
Inside the house, she peeked around the corner, just barely-enough to see him standing there, hair perfect, jacket familiar, flowers in his hands.
Her chest fluttered.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her heart. “He brought flowers.”
“SEE?” Dustin whisper-yelled. “THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE TO HURRY.”
She rushed back to the mirror, finally satisfied enough to grab her coat. One last breath. One last glance.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Dustin swung the door open wider just as she stepped into view.
Steve looked up.
And forgot how to breathe.
She stood there a little nervous, cheeks warm, eyes bright-beautiful in a way that felt effortless, like she didn’t even know what she was doing to him.
“Hi,” she said softly.
Steve swallowed, then smiled-the real one. “Hi.”
He held out the bouquet, suddenly shy. “These are for you.”
Her hands trembled as she took them. “Steve… they’re perfect.”
Dustin beamed between them like this was the greatest moment of his life.
“Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “I will simply be staying home and never emotionally recovering from this. Have fun!”
She laughed, Steve laughed, and for a second everything felt light and easy and exactly right.
Steve offered his arm.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, still smiling, flowers tucked carefully against her chest.
“Yeah,” she said. “I really am.”
And as they stepped out into the night, Dustin watched from the doorway-grinning, victorious, already knowing this was something special.
Hi there! Could I do thumbprint cookies for your bakesale?
James potter with clingy and kinda codependent reader.
Also congrats on 7k♡
Thank you!
okay so I think James would probably lowkey enable this for a long time
like he's more than happy to have a partner who wants to be with him always, he's not someone who really needs alone time so aside from occaisionally having time dedicated to Remus and Sirius he's happy to have you clinging to his side all the time
he does care deeply for you though, and he's a pretty emotionally intelligent guy, so once he catches onto how not independent you are he is going to try to help I think
i think James may have struggled with a bit of codependency (more so just taking on others' emotions and thinking of them before himself) when he was younger so he has some sense of how you're feeling
he'll talk to you about it, try to help you understand how you're harming yourself, work you through small steps like going to the store by yourself, taking time to do something for only you, and practicing paying attention to your own wants/needs
ofc he's not going to leave you high and dry, he wants to be a good partner to you regardless, so he always talks you through it in the most compassionate, encouraging way he can
wants you to understand that he loves you for you, and he wants you to consider yourself as a full person separate from him before you consider your relationship, and that's because he loves you
You knew it! My new original song “I Knew It, I Knew You” for Disney and Pixar’s Toy Story 5 will be yours on June 5th. I’ve always dreamed of getting to write for these characters who I’ve adored since I was a 5 year old kid watching the first Toy Story movie. I fell instantly in love with Toy Story 5 when I was lucky enough to see it in its early stages, and I wrote this song as soon as I got home from the screening. Sometimes you just know, right?
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Can you I request a James fic where you walk into his room while he’s working out and you get all flustered and he’s like “oi, no stay, you can help me work out.” and you get all sheepish as he suggests to use you as a human dumbbell 😜😜😜
home workout
gym bro!james potter x roommate!reader
summary: stuck inside during a snowstorm, you help james replicate his workout at home ⊹ 1.0k
warnings: james mentions reader weighs less than his warm up weight, james lifts reader, suggestive hand placements
· ─ ⋆⋅✶⋅⋆ ─ ·
“Hey, James? Do you… um…”
You come to a halt in his doorway, words dying in your throat as you come face to face with James. A very shirtless James, with a heavy dumbbell in each hand, doing bicep curls in the large mirror that leans against the wall opposite you.
“Yeah?” James grunts, watching your reflection as you ogle at the sight before you. The corner of his lips curl as he basks in your attention.
You’re not sure what’s more captivating. His black gym shorts hanging low on his hips, the vast plane of rippling muscles across his back, or the way his big biceps flex every time he lifts the heavy weights. The view makes you forget yourself. Only when you meet his eye in the mirror do you come back to reality, cheeks warming when you notice his shit-eating grin.
“N-never mind. You’re, uh, clearly busy,” you stammer, already turning away when he calls out your name
“Wait!” he says, putting down the dumbbells with a low thunk. “Stay. Could use your help.”
He’s facing you now. Crossing his arms—which you’re trying very hard not to look at. Again.
“How would I help?” you ask skeptically. He couldn’t possibly imagine you’d be able to spot him, right? You like to get a few workouts in a week yourself, but your strength is nothing compared to James’s.
“Be my weight.”
“Huh?” you vocalize, head snapping up. When did you start staring at his chest?
James chuckles. “C’mon, the weights I have here are nothing compared to what I’m used to,” he gestures to the sad set of dumbbells that usually hide under his bed. He looks you up and down, and you try not to squirm under his gaze. “Well… neither are you,” he adds with a smirk, “but I’m trying to work with what I’ve got.”
Your gaze darts to his window, curtains drawn to let the light of the day filter in—brighter than usual, reflected off the freshly fallen snow that’s keeping you both in this apartment. And keeping James from his usual gym.
“I’ll guide you into position. Just need you to lock your limbs and let me do all the work,” he explains, already tugging you into his room by your wrist.
“I dunno, Jamie…”
“You’re not worried I won’t be able to lift you, are you? I might have to take offense to that. Love, you’ve got nothing on my warm-up weight.”
The statement makes your heart stutter in your chest. But the proof is in his arms… and his shoulders, and his abs, and his oh-so-muscular legs… needless to say, you don’t doubt that he’s telling the truth.
You chew your lip, thinking it over. Is it really a good idea to let the flat-mate that you’re crushing on lift you into his arms, while you have to listen to his grunts with every rep and try not to drool as his muscles flex under your weight?
No, it sounds like a very bad idea indeed. But James puts a hand on your hip, squeezing the flesh there, a hopeful little “please” falling from his lips, puppy dog eyes boring into yours.
You sigh. “Just don’t drop me, okay?”
James beams. “Never,” he insists.
“Sooo, what do I do? Sit on your back while you do some push-ups?”
He huffs a laugh. “Sorta.”
James starts with squats. He starts low, allowing you to drape yourself across his shoulders as instructed. The position is similar to a fireman’s carry. One of his hands wraps around your wrist. The other finds your inner thigh, his arm wrapped around just one of your legs. You try to focus on just about anything else.
You squeal when he starts the set. You’re aware that James is tall, but you’ve never experienced it from his perspective. You’re pretty far from the ground when he stands to his full height, and you can’t help but cling to whatever part of him you can reach with your free hand.
“You’re alright. I got you,” he reassures, completing each rep with ease. Gently setting you on the ground before you know it.
Your inner thigh still feels warm in the wake of his touch.
“Next up?” you utter quickly.
The bench presses are even worse.
He has you lock your limbs as best as you can, arms crossed over your chest. He’s lying on the floor beneath you, one hand flat against your upper back, one on your ass.
“James!” you complain about the placement.
“Stay still,” he says, and you can hear his stupid grin in his voice.
“I’m trying!” you shriek as he presses you above his body, wobbling precariously in his hands. “James!”
He’s laughing beneath you. You try to twist your neck to glare at him, but your movement only sends you tumbling down onto his chest.
He’s still chuckling when he sits up, adjusting you into his lap.
“Alright, we can skip those,” he says. You don’t say anything, not quite trusting your voice.
He gathers you into his arms next. Your position is similar, arms crossed and legs straight. His hands are finally in locations that don’t make your head spin, supporting you underneath your back and legs as he curls you towards his chest.
Curls you?
“I thought you already did bicep curls?” you ask.
“Oh, yeah,” he says cheekily, stopping the set. His hand slides down to the bend of your knees, wrapping his arms more tightly around you, turning this into more of a bridal-style carry than any kind of workout.
You glare at him. “Put me down, you shit.”
“Nah, let’s just say I’m working on my endurance now.”
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